


Heatwave

by malekin



Series: Popsicle 'Verse [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Popsicle 'Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malekin/pseuds/malekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver is bunking with Felicity and her air conditioner breaks...thank god for popsicles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heatwave

**In Which Oliver is a Whiny Little Girl**

"I’m calling Diggle."

"No! Oliver!" Felicity interrupted his dialing, snatching the phone out of his hands, "You are not going to bother the soon to be daddy, he is wrapped up in familial bliss at the moment and we can handle this without him."

"Felicity." he growled out.

"Unh-uh, that gets you nowhere with me mister." Having successfully hidden the offending phone Felicity turned around to find the big, bad vigilante sitting on her couch with an odd look on his face.

"Are—are you…pouting?" she sputtered out, laughing at his glare. "Look, Mr. ex Billionaire, I get that you have spent most of your life in pampered excess. I dare to imagine you ever having to deal with something as mundane as a broken air conditioner. But, five years on an island that wasn’t exactly in the arctic and was severely lacking in amenities, and you’re pouting?"

"When you’re preoccupied with the constant threat of death, comfort isn’t usually in the forefront of your mind." his indignation made her giggle harder.

"You are such a spoiled brat Oliver Queen." Felicity snorted incredulously making her way to the freezer.

"Felicity, it’s hot." was his whined reply.

"Oh god, you’re not a spoiled brat, you’re worse!," pulling her head from the frozen heaven she stalked over to where Oliver was once again pouting, produced an ice pop, and slapped him in the forehead with it, "You’re a whiny little girl!"

If his exasperated expression was anything to go by, Oliver did not appreciate her wit. He did, however, appreciate the popsicle.

**In Which Felicity Wears Slightly More than a Bathing Suit**

He was staring again, to be fair the scene in front of him was more than a little suggestive. Felicity was on the couch in barely there shorts and a thin camisole. One knee up and cocked to the side, the other on the couch as though any amount of skin touching was too much. Her popsicle habit was starting to wear on him too. 

There was a half finished one in her hand that she was holding gingerly to the pulse point in her neck, while another was resting in her cleavage. Something, she assured him, he would completely understand the necessity of if he had breasts.

"Oliver." she moaned, startling him out of his heat and skin induced fog, "You’re making me hot."

She ignored his smirk.

"I don’t even care how that came out, you’re making me hot looking at you right now." she gestured up and down with her popsicle, "How in all that is good in the world are you standing around fully dressed."

Oliver glanced down at his clothes, he’d just gotten in when the ac had gone out, but it wasn’t like it was winter gear. 

"I know you aren’t shy," she went on raising her eyebrow at him, "I’ve seen it all before."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow in her direction, earning him a blush that he could now see went well beyond her face.

"I mean, well, obviously, I haven’t seen IT, well, oh god."

Oliver heard her mumbled countdown and smiled fully, Digg called it his Felicity smile.

"Ok, let me start over,not only do you walk around the foundry in various states of undress, I have actually patched you up a time or two before. No need to be modest now."

Oliver considered her words, she was right he’d never had a problem before with being partially clothed around her. She didn’t mind the scars, didn’t even seem to notice them. In fact, she’d made him forget they were there once or twice. Felicity had resumed her former position and once again he was drawn to her leg, following it until it met the hem of her shorts, just below the junction of her thigh and hip.

What was wrong with him? She was wearing more than a bathing suit, not much more, but still. His own temperature was rising as her leg shifted, awarding him with a sliver of purple that matched her shirt. That same shirt that was so ridiculously thin he swore he could see freckles on her stomach.

"I need a shower." he pushed off the counter he’d been leaning on and stalked his way into the bathroom.

"Someone’s moody…" she retorted to his retreating form.

**In Which Oliver Gives Felicity Something**

Felicity huffed. Oliver had returned from his sudden shower in the same state he’d left for it. Down to the tightly laced boots. Was he serious? She was far from uncomfortable with her body, but even her modesty had been shoved aside for this heatwave. It was Oliver anyway, she felt safe being vulnerable with him, ever the gentleman.

This was ridiculous. 

"This is ridiculous." her thoughts never did stay long unspoken, "Are you serious right now?"

Oliver ignored her and continued to the freezer, popping out two partially frozen water bottles and tossing one her way before returning to his station at the counter.

"I’m fine." he said evenly, opening his water and taking a long pull of it.

Felicity was momentarily lost in the way his adams apple moved as he swallowed. Condensation dripping off the bottle. His shirt that had held against the damp as well as it could was now being slowly molded to his chest from the sweat and shower. She followed one particularly determined bead as it trailed down his neck, on to his shirt, then hitting skin where the cloth had ridden up, before disappearing into the unknown under Oliver’s belt. 

"Ok, no more of that Felicity." she chided herself under her breath. Taking her own bottle she rolled it up her leg, pausing at pulse points and moving on to her other leg, then arms, chest and neck. Sighing in relief.

This was the sight that greeted Oliver when he set his water down, his comment about his state of dress dying on his lips as he took in Felicity’s look of absolute bliss. For the first time in his life, Oliver found himself irrationally jealous of a plastic bottle.

This was getting out of control.

"Seriously Oliver!" Felicity’s annoyance was getting sharper, "Just give me something already! You cannot be comfortable. I’m barely clothed here," there was that blush again, she pushed on, "and I’m still hot."

Oliver’s own irritation was building at her tone, his thin control already stretched by the heat and her expanse of skin. Her emotions feeding into his and this feeling in his chest ever since the mansion that was dangerous and slowly starting to spin out of his reach.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to keep it in his hands anymore, wasn’t sure if he could to begin with. Wouldn’t it be nice, just once, to let that control slip. One moment where he wasn’t carefully weighing the subtle consequences of every move he made.

Felicity didn’t hear the movement but she felt the warm air of his breath and knew he was close. She leaned into his space without opening her eyes. Terrified, because her tightly coiled emotion that she kept in her gut regarding him was starting to unfurl into a heat that had nothing to do with a broken air conditioner.

"Ok, Fe-li-ci-ty," he stressed the syllables in her name, she inhaled him and knew that if she were to open her eyes he’d be right there. Nose to nose with her, it was an exhilarating thought. Scary and brilliant all at once. "I’ll give you something…"

Felicity wasn’t sure what sound escaped her mouth at his tone, but she was fairly certain it was something that she should be embarrassed about. A sudden weight on her lap caused her eyes to pop open in surprise. Oliver had an arm braced on either side of her against the couch and was most definitely invading her bubble with a satisfied smirk on his face. In her lap were his boots.

She quickly ducked under his arm and scurried into the kitchen suddenly desperate for something that was sweet and to be anywhere but arms reach of him. Equally torn between violence and an entirely different method of attack, it was definitely safer on this side of the room.

**In Which Felicity Envies a Spoon**

Oliver was grateful for Felicity’s love of ice cream as he doubted he’d have gotten any if she’d not had more than one stashed in that freezer of hers. He chuckled under his breath listening to her humming satisfaction after the first spoonful.

"There has got to be a way to get you out of that shirt." 

He rolled his eyes.

"Really Felicity, are we still on this?" After twenty minutes of quiet on the matter, a record for her, he thought he was safe from this particular conversation. He really should’ve known better.

"I just don’t get it." she went on, "What’s the big frakkin’ deal? It’s hot, you’re hot, shut up Oliver, you know what I mean. Just take it off already!" 

Felicity felt that she ought to have been over blushing at this point in the game. Her body seemed to disagree. Oliver fixed his patented “I’m not budging” glare on her.

"No way, I am not intimidated by you anymore dear." Felicity laughed at the wounded look on his face. "You’re still the biggest bad, I promise."

Oliver smiled and leaned back against the couch, his legs stretched against the table. Apparently manners weren’t winning in these temperatures.

Felicity started to say as such but stopped when a groan reached her ears. She watched the spoon as it made its way from the ice cream back to his mouth. Oh god, this was not helping the urge to attack she thought she’d successfully beaten back down. His tongue darted out before the spoon reached his mouth, overeager, she blushed at the sudden onslaught of mental images brought by what his mouth was doing to that spoon. 

"I’m jealous of a spoon.." she mumbled.

"What?" Oliver looked confused.

As well he should be, she was getting confused for heavens sake. She wasn’t even sure why the whole idea of him refusing to take his shirt off was bothering her. But dammit, it really was. What was the issue here? Had she done something to make him uncomfortable. Did he think she wouldn’t be able to control herself? Did he think that after his mock confession and their brief conversation on the beach that she was some hopeless little girl with a crush?

What the actual hell. Was that it? Did he think poor babbling Felicity couldn’t handle a little male nudity, or rather his male nudity. Anger was bubbling up in her brain. This was ridiculous!

"Oliver!" Felicity slammed her pint down on the table in front of her, leaned over and yanked the spoon from his mouth, "This is ridiculous!"

Not being privy to the internal tangent that had brought her to this point, Oliver was understandably bewildered by Felicity’s tantrum.

Felicity wasn’t completely sure of her actions at the moment either, and after sparing an envious glare at the hateful spoon who’d gotten so much attention, she did something that could only be attributed to heat and anger induced insanity.

She dug the spoon into his ice cream container and lobbed a large spoonful right into his surprised face.

Neither moved as the glob of ice cream slowly made it’s way down his chin and landed with a splat right in the middle of the shirt that had started this whole argument.

Oliver stood stiffly and Felicity backed up out of instinct. She’d lied, he could still intimidate her. He made his way to the kitchen, scraping the ice cream into the sink before turning and fixing her with an icy stare. Without breaking eye contact he brought his hands up and pulled the shirt over his head, throwing it in a heap on to the kitchen floor.

Felicity let out a shaky breath when he turned and left the room.

**In Which Felicity has Made a Mistake**

The cold water felt like heaven to Oliver as he washed off the sticky mess from Felicity’s impromptu food fight. He wasn’t upset, not really. In a way she was right, he was being ridiculous. There was no logical reason to keep his shirt on after all. 

He just couldn’t help but feel that losing a layer of clothing around her was not a good idea. He already felt so naked under her eyes as it was, and that tenuous grip he had on his feelings was getting even more slippery as the evening wore on. He searched his face in the mirror over the sink and seeing no solution to this situation, sighed and changed out of his jeans. In for a penny after all… 

When Oliver left the bathroom after washing himself off, they didn’t mention the incident and he was still shirtless. Far from feeling as though she’d won, Felicity instead had a sinking feeling she had made a horrible, horrible mistake.

She wasn’t worried he was angry at her, not for something so infantile as some thrown ice cream. No, he was back to his usual self and had even made a comment about how she was right, it was too hot for a shirt.

Nope. Her mistake was much worse.

For all the times she’d seen him shirtless and sweaty at the foundry, all those times she’d watched his muscles move on that damned salmon ladder, she wasn’t prepared for this.

Oliver, shirtless, in a pair of black pajama bottoms, and bare feet. Relaxed and sprawled out on her sofa. Those times were business. Held in check by others in the area, his attention elsewhere, or the frantic emotions created by stitching him up over and over. 

Now? Now she needed more ice cream.

**In Which Oliver Discovers How to Make Felicity Stop Talking**

He wasn’t sure when he’d started heavily disliking popsicles, was pretty sure he’d once heartily enjoyed them as a child. But the thoughts that were invading his head at this moment were as far moved from childhood as they could possibly be. 

Felicity Smoak apparently loved popsicles. With enthusiasm.

The kind of enthusiasm that should be made illegal. At the very least it was immoral. And very distracting. 

"You aren’t paying attention Oliver, this is really important." Felicity gestured towards the screen with the offending ice pop. 

Having decided that they may as well take their mind off the fact it was too hot to even sleep, she’d called dibs on movie selection and was currently educating him on the ins and outs of Serenity.

"It’s got cowboys! In space!" she’d babbled happily, "What’s not to like here?"

He smiled at her squeals about someone named Mal, but despite the explosions and action on the screen, he found himself watching her rather than it. The play of emotions and delight that danced across her features. He didn’t see this enough he realized sadly. It seemed lately all he’d seen of Felicity had been anxious, angry, or hurt. He felt a stab of guilt that he’d brought all that into her life. 

He knew that she’d made a choice to stay here, he’d given her every out he could. And he was so proud of her, no matter what other tangle of emotions she brought out in him, he knew there was a strong sense of pride in his girl. He didn’t think she knew how much his strength came from hers. Unbidden, the thought of her face in the mansion swam into his mind. 

He’d gone off book. Oliver didn’t think she knew that.

They could have sold it easily, everyone assumed it anyway and it wasn’t a huge leap of logic considering how much time they spent together.

He wasn’t even sure he’d known how true it was until he’d said it. Then he’d slipped that dart into her hand, and asked her if she understood when he didn’t even understand himself.

"Hey," came a soft voice, accompanied by an even softer hand on his cheek, "you ok in there?"

Oliver smiled and opened his eyes, finding hers worried. His hand came up to cover hers.

He realized how easily he could have lost her, she could’ve died. He could’ve died. Suddenly the idea that she would’ve never known it wasn’t an act was more than he could handle. 

Bringing his other hand up to her neck he covered the open space between them.

"Oliver-" Felicity’s confusion was cut off by his mouth covering hers. She melted back into the couch, Oliver following and settling over her slight body. Her thoughts scattered when he took advantage of her opened mouth to taste her thoroughly.

Oliver Queen had finally found a way to get Felicity to stop talking, and she was more than ok with that.

**In Which Diggle Gets the Day Off**

His hand was poised to knock when he heard the shriek from inside the apartment. John made quick work of opening the door only to stop at the scene that greeted him.

Cushions half off the couch, coffee table askew and smeared with, was that ice cream? Spotting the overturned container on the floor, yep, ice cream. Popsicle wrappers interspersed with clothes, spoons and water bottles were littered everywhere over the floor and counters. 

He carefully made his way through the apartment, stopping to close the freezer door, and marvel at one particular spoon that appeared to have been bent in half, before Felicity’s voice rang out again.

"Ice! Really Oliver?"

Diggle heard the man in question chuckle and murmur something in response.

"Holy hell! That’s cold!" a very feminine whine came blasting in his ears.

"Ha, now who’s the whiny little girl?" Oliver was laughing again, and he wasn’t sure the last time he’d heard that particular laugh from his boss.

"Oooo, I’ll show you whiny little girl Oliver Queen!"

Smiling broadly, Dig made his way back to the front door, closing and locking it behind him. Pulling out his phone, he couldn’t help but laugh himself as he made his way back to his car.

"Lyla, I’m on my way back, looks like I’ve got the day off."


End file.
